Into the Corner
by unconditionalW
Summary: "Nobody stays in Bristol" Katie-centric of Gen 2 after Series 4.


Title: Into the Corner  
>Pairing: KatieCook/Effy, Naomi/Emily  
>Summary: (PostS4 summer) "Nobody stays in Bristol."<br>Rating: R for language  
>Disclaimer: Not my universe, not my characters.<p>

_and then I'm out of this place._

_- __This is the Last Time by Keane_

When Freddie..._dies..._it hits them all, hard, and right between the eyes.

And it's like, not even fucking possible. Because they're all just expecting him to walk out from a trap door in his oversized hoodie, laughing and high-fiving Cook, pointing at them, revelling in their success. And everyone's in his shed, and they're waiting for him to come in and tell them to get the fuck out. Waiting for him to come in with his silly grin, maybe some blood on his cheek, saying he got caught up in traffic whilst boarding home. And everyone's waiting. Just waiting. So it's not possible he's just not going to show up. It's not possible. It's like. Not fucking possible. He's not _dead.  
><em>But the look on Cook's face – and the way he can't even fucking _look _at Karen – says it all.

and the blood.

"Cook," Panda's first to speak, albeit shakily. The rest of them just sit, and stand, the music still blaring until JJ has the sense to turn it off. "Whose blood is that?"

Cook glances down at his stained shirt – Freddie's shirt, Freddie who's dead – and sniffs at it. He tries to rub it off with his finger. "Bit of mine, bit of his."

"His?" Effy asks calmly, so calmly.

"Foster's." Cook says it looking straight at Effy, whose shot glass just casually slips out of her hand and topples on the carpet.

"But-" JJ stutters, nervously looking between them, "That's..."

And Effy's out the door without another word, smashing a bottle of tequila down and pushing past Cook, who moves aside to not stain her with his shirt, which was already red to begin with, and now just...

Naomi chases after Effy.

She grabs Emily's hand and death grip on her arm and shrugs it off, running out the door with a soft, "Eff!" Katie tries to ignore the sudden jolt of anger as she watches Emily caress her now empty arm.

* * *

><p>It's pretty fucked up. The cops find Foster's body a few days after he stops showing up at work and it's beaten to a pulp. And it's all horrible and suspicious until they find Freddie's body under some shaky floorboards. And then it gets real.<p>

Everyone immediately suspects Cook because he's prone to violence and has the strongest motive with weakest alibi. Anyone who's taken half a glance Freddie's way this side of Bristol knows they're basically brothers, without a care in the world and always on the lookout for one another. Cook's wanted for manslaughter but a proper bloke Duncan with the saddest pair of corduroys Katie's ever seen pops out of nowhere and manages to bring it down to some sort of like, justified homicide. Or justifiable homicide. Whatever. It's lower.

Effy's, who was getting on swimmingly before this all happened, loses whatever marbles she has left and has pretty much taken up fucking residence at the barn. It isn't that she needs to be watched around the clock, or is any closer to offing herself as she was before, but she seems to have reverted straight back to the quieter self she was, back when they all first met at Roundview. Every now and then she'll stare off into space and Katie'll have to clear her throat, or place a hand on her arm to bring her back. They've lost her, to some time and space, and it's always about bringing her back. All the progress, Katie thinks with a huff sometimes, all that fucking progress they were making; is completely shot to Hell.

And it's horrible. All of it: The entire pomp and circus around Freddie's funeral, you know? It's so fucking horrible, and filled with tears, and anger, and shame. Karen plans his funeral, because, quote, 'I knew him better than any of you' and their father's too distraught, too fucking broken to plan another funeral. Karen had never particularly warmed to Katie, and it's not like the redhead particularly cared in return, but the poor girl looks so _lost _and _alone, _Katie helps with flower arrangements. Which is also fucking twisted. What makes snapdragons casket worthy and not lisianthus she'll never understand. But it gets her mind reeling. And right now it's just not fucking possible that he's gone.

She wears black. Black shoes, black bows, a black top and black stockings. Even black knickers.

"You don't need to," Emily said as she slipped some brown loafers on.

"Whatever," she'd responded. It wasn't that she was feeling morbid or anything. It just felt right.

[it's the beginning of the fucking end anyway]

It doesn't feel right when they finally get to the place, though, and Freddie's in a fucking box with his head stitched up and Effy falls to the floor in this horrible, sobbing mess of a person and Panda's trying to help her up, hiding her own tears in vain. "Fuck it," Katie mutters under her breath and pushes Panda's useless arms away. She hooks an arm under Effy's and moves some bangs out of her eyes. "Come on," she whispers in her ear, still aware of everyone around, now growing increasingly uncomfortable with Freddie's girlfriend in hysterics. Naomi appears, almost out of nowhere, and hooks her own arm under Effy's. She gives Katie an acknowledging nod and together they hoist Effy towards the bathroom.

They push their way in, thanking the sniffling women who make their way out on sight of Effy's makeup just pouring down her face and staining her grey dress. Katie motions to sit her up on the sink counter and Naomi takes it upon herself to take hold of the girl entirely and, carrying her almost like a child, she drops her down on the edge of the counter very carefully. Effy nuzzles her forehead into Naomi's shoulder and mumbles something intelligible the blonde chuckles to warmly. Naomi brings Effy's head up into her hands and pushes their noses together. "It's alright, Eff," she says, "It's alright."

Emily comes in, her hands behind her back, lips screwed and uncertain as to what to do.

Katie's flooded with a sudden urge to break them apart, slash Naomi to bits.

* * *

><p>Karen goes back to UWE early because Bristol, and her house in particular, is filled with too many memories. It's always like that. A place being ruined by memories. Katie wishes she could have a place where things don't go awry. And brothers don't die.<p>

Panda sticks around for a week or two and then fucks off to Harvard with Thomas. Which, also, took Katie for a mindfuck. Who would have thought those two of all people would manage sweet deals with American schools of all places? But nonetheless they're gone and out of sight and mind in two weeks which honestly lightens a load on Katie's back, seeing as Thommo's been just plain awkward ever since they kissed. Their trips have been pre-planned, yeah, Katie realizes that, but still it's a pretty shit thing to have happen, to the group. And Effy. Mostly to Effy.

Cook stays low, and it's only a few days after Panda's gone that he finally shows back up, and this time for good. Staying in hiding at the last place the coppers checked sounds both ridiculous and ingenious to Katie as she watches him settle into the upstairs room at Naomi's. He's quiet, he says, and as she watches him slowly unravel his duffel bag, all he brings around with him, and take out this black and white photo of him, Freddie and JJ, she believes it.

* * *

><p>You know, it wasn't alright (though she'd pretended it was, for Emily's sake) that Emily and Naomi had gotten back together at all. Weak, weak Emily. Emily'd always been the weaker twin, no matter what anyone told them, or claimed they'd seen in the younger twin in momentary bursts of bravery; Katie always knew she'd have to carry the heavier burden than Emily. And though she'd proved her nerve, her resilience with Naomi in their first year, the moment Naomi'd cheated; Emily revealed she was nothing more than a bleeding heart. Emily was always the bleeder. Katie the carrier.<p>

"The dead girl," Katie whispered in the dark that last night they spent sleeping on the floor in their old house. Naomi couldn't even bring herself to name her. Typical. "What was her name?"

"Don't make me say it," Emily whispered back, and snuggled closer to her, burying her nose in Katie's neck.

Katie tightened her grip around Emily's waist. Such a fucking world. "Em, I can't have kids," she said casually. A gasp and a hiccup from Emily, then a tightening around her neck.

"Emsy wum," Emily offered.

"Katie wum too," Katie replied.

The next morning she'd made her way over to Naomi's and in a flash of panic and destruction, pushed her way through the door and pinned the taller girl up against the wall.

"You fucking _slut," _she spat, her hands inching up from her worn out blouse to her neck. "I _told_ you not to fuck with her. I told you not to _fuck _with my _sister. _I didn't think you needed to be told not to _fuck anyone else."_

Naomi fought, only for a moment, and finally let her hands hang down to her sides almost accepting defeat. "I'm sorry," she sighed heavily, her eyes filling with tears already, struggling to have her eyes meet Katie's. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, blubbering her words as though she'd said them too many times and realized their unfortunate futility.

It's all a bit too much. A bit too much _weakness _she wasn't expecting, and Katie's grip only grew tighter. "I told you," she whispered. "I told you she was my sister, and you were just a slut. You fucking..." She licks her lips quickly and lets the anger just flow, rushing hotly in her veins. "When you're _that_ lucky," she said, actively _trying _not to let it sound envious, "You're allowed to be terrified. But you're not allowed to throw it away like that." She searched Naomi's eyes which only bore into hers weakly. This wasn't the Campbell she used to know. "I should fucking kill you."

Naomi barely flinched. "I wouldn't stop you," she replied shamelessly, finally allowing her eyesight to slip from Katie's and she bowed her head to allow her tears to drop to the floor.

Katie screwed her neck from side to side and threw Naomi back up against the wall. "Pathetic," she muttered, kicking the door open to leave.

So. This is what love does to you.

* * *

><p>It's around the same time when Effy starts her new medication PATCB 138 that Cook comes around for the first time since the shed.<p>

He's a bit torn up on the sides, and Katie's pretty sure she's never seen him look so..._grey. _He hasn't shaven in weeks, or showered in days, and she can smell his deodorant a mile away. It's nice, that at least he's tried. Effy doesn't seem to mind, either. He sits by Effy's side as Katie keeps watch. She tries not to overhear their hushed words.

"He's gone. He's gone."

"I know, princess. I know. C'mere."

* * *

><p>By mid June, Katie's taken up residence in Naomi's place as well. There isn't enough room in the caravan for all of them and their egos and hot breaths. Katie's up for signing Naomi's place once she and Ems move to London. Fucking London. When the hell Naomi got the rights to move Emily wherever she wanted, she didn't know, but she didn't like it. It's weak, the co-dependence they have on one another. Like a sinking ship, and neither will make it stop.<p>

[also; when the _fuck _did it suddenly become okay for everyone to _fucking leave_]

They'd made it a thing, a promise and an unspoken oath to never – ever – talk about Sophia. It was in the past and they were all trying to get on. Fucking get on. Classic Naomi. The girl fucks up and instead of facing consequences decides to pretend like it didn't happen. It's the only way Emily would have ever taken her back, really. If she just pretended.

It's all fun and games and simple pleasantries with tiny tension filled dinners and meaningful glances shot across the room to Emily in particular, each meaning different things from Katie and Naomi, but aside from it all it's not half bad, and nowhere near as excruciating as she'd thought it would be. That is, until the horrible realization of Freddie lifts from them and the lezzas start getting back into their groove like last summer. Fucking in the morning, and afternoon, and evening, and straight on until the rooster crowed. At first it doesn't particularly bother Katie since she's out finding a job, but when Bristol's made it clear it wants nothing to do with her and she decides to fuck it and just laze around this summer, it start boiling over.

Fortunately it's when Cook decides to stay.

He's quiet, he says, and as Katie watches him slowly unravel his duffel bag, all he brings around with him, and take out this black and white photo of him, Freddie and JJ, she believes it.

* * *

><p>There's no fucking need for an alarm clock with them two.<p>

Sometimes it's a wonder how they get up so early each morning but without fault, near nine or ten in the morning, the headboard from Naomi's room will start tapping against the wall and around the time breathy moans start building up on one another, Katie'll get up and make her way downstairs. It's not like, disgusting. Because whatever, do whatever you want in the privacy of your own bedroom. Over time it's probably just gotten disgusting because it's her sister. And Katie knows too much about how Emily sounds when she comes. Just. Too much.

[and when did Emily start getting more action than her anyway]

Katie's managed to perfect the art of scrunching her face up in her orange juice in the morning. The headboard's pounding erratically rather than tapping this morning and an occasional 'ohh' and yelps that sound more painful than pleasurable manage to slip down the stairs. Katie tries to block out images of either Emily _or _Naomi in positions that would warrant the sounds.

Cook makes his way into the kitchen, shirtless as always, and Katie watches him as he stretches. "Do you _own _clothes?"

He rubs the back of his head and snickers at her. "Morning to you, too." He sits himself beside her with a cold bowl of cereal, patiently shovelling it into his mouth as he reads the morning newspaper. They sit in a comfortable silence. It wasn't that Cook wasn't a good conversationalist, it just seemed there was never really a topic you could actually converse to him about. And Katie'd never really _tried._

"Didn't know you read," she tries.

"What, at all?" he asks absently, flipping the page.

"No," she rolls her eyes, "The paper."

He sniffs and drops it down on the table, finishing his cereal. "I don't. Just got into the habit of checkin' lately. You know." He gets up from the table and rubs his flat stomach for no reason. "Make sure my tracks are well paved and all."

A loud groan is heard from upstairs that sounds like Naomi's slipping off an iceberg and two louder grunts from Emily and there's silence.

Katie sighs, clanging her spoon down on the table. Fucking lost her appetite.

Cook just grins and brings his bowl to the sink, licking his fingers. "Your sister's evidently a good shag."

"_Shut up."_

He chortles, and loudly. Arches his back and lets it go. It's been a while since he's really let himself go like this, and a part of Katie's glad at least Cook can still laugh the way he used to. "You need to get some, Katie-kins, it's getting you a bit frustrated around the edges, you know?" He winks.

She sneers. "Sex isn't everything."

Naomi enters the kitchen on tip-toes, in nothing but a long t-shirt, her hair a wild mess and sticking to her bruised neck, lips bright red. She enters shyly, avoiding the grin from Cook and Katie's pointed stare. Pours herself some water in a glass. "Morning," she clears her throat.

"Morning to you," Cook mumbles, rinsing out his bowl and placing it in the dishwasher.

Katie continues glaring as Naomi downs the large glass like a fish out of water. Cook pats her ass and she smacks his shoulder. She fills the cup again and heads back upstairs.

"Think I'm going to build something," Cook says aloud, scratching his stomach, his sight set on the backyard.

"Are you now," Katie replies demurely, picking her spoon back up and dipping it into the cereal. She takes the newspaper and scrolls down to weather.

"Maybe a swingset."

"That's ambitious," Katie snorts.

Scratch scratch. "Maybe a hammock."

"Hmm."

He snaps out of his trance and walks over to Katie. "Want to help?" he asks with a toothy grin.

She's about to reply when the undeniable sound of glass hitting the floor and objects being scattered about onto the floor, followed by bodies hitting the ground hard, comes from upstairs and Katie sighs heavily, dropping the spoon back into the bowl.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, at night, when everyone pretty much gone to bed, she can hear Freddie: As a whisper, and a hesitant voice in the night, shy and genuine as it always was. "Get some sleep," he'll say, and she swears she can feel his hand on her forehead, clearing it of loose strands and leaving a soft, warm kiss. "Get some sleep," he'll repeat, and she'll finally doze off.<p>

* * *

><p>"Have you heard from Panda?" Effy asks when she lands herself in jail for the fourth time in <em>Monopoly.<em>

Katie takes the dice and rolls a snake eyes. Squeals when she grabs the Free Parking money. "No," she says absently, rolling again. "I'm sure she's alright."

Effy just stares at her tiny shoe in jail. "Yeah," she says, in that way Katie thinks she says it for the sake of saying it.

She scrunches her face. Lays a hand on Effy's. "Don't worry so much, yeah? She's fine."

"Yeah."

Katie rolls again.

"How's Cook?" Effy asks quietly, and the question is _loaded._

"He's fine."

They play until the sun goes down and Effy has dinner. Four baby carrots, mashed potatoes, roast beef and broccoli. Milk. Soup. Two red pills, three blue.

It's too late, and too dark, and no one's particularly waiting for her at home. She texts a goodnight to Emily and receives no reply. Figures. Fucking Campbell.

She's grown accustomed to Effy's body. They'd decided the seat by the bedside was too uncomfortable for her to sleep overnight in. Maybe once or twice. But Katie'd grown into the habit of sticking around, and one night Effy kicked the covers off with a soft 'fuck it' and invited her in beside her. At first Effy's body was frail, and tiny, and a piece of Katie didn't want to crush her.

Later she'd realize you couldn't crush Effy. Not really. Only envelop her. Sometimes she liked it. Sometimes she didn't.

"Get in," she says softly, pulling the covers open as Katie stuffs the monopoly box away, shrugging her cardigan off. They lay together for a brief moment before Katie turns the light off.

"Goodnight Effy."

"Night, Katie."

She pretends not to hear her sobs through the night. Only tightens her grip on her waist as she shakes.

* * *

><p>She's emptying the dishwasher when she finds a purple, rubber...<em>thing, <em>attached to some sort of strap and – oh _fuck it all. _She picks up the strap-on with two fingers, sneering and holding it two feet in front of her. "Emily!" she shouts, trying to decide where to put it. Probably not on the counter, where they, you know, serve _food. _But for fuck's sake it's already been in here with the fucking dishes where they also serve food and..."Emily!" she shouts again, and it comes out whiny. She's growing increasingly aware of the jagged ridges on the fucking phallus, and the worn-down look of the black strap, and there's a single drop of lukewarm water from the dishwasher sliding down and dripping off the tip of the head of the "Fucking hell!" she drops it back onto the rack.

"What, what is it?" she hears a voice and spins around angrily, only feeling the frustration grow when Naomi appears in the kitchen.

"You put something in the fucking dishwasher, lezza," she folds her hands together.

Naomi's eyes dance around the room confusingly, until they finally, almost embarrassingly rise up to the rack behind Katie. A flush of light pink over her face indicates she's spotted it. "Oh," she mumbles, and tiptoes over to her, picking the strap-on out of the dishwasher and shaking off excess water. She mumbles something else Katie can't quite make out but decides to fuck it.

"Unbelievable," Katie mumbles to her back.

"It's just a strap-on, Katie," Naomi sighs and pushes it against to wall to sturdy herself. "It's not contagious, it's not going to infect the food for fuck's sake."

Katie folds her arms together tighter. Well she knew _that. _Of course it wouldn't. Probably why it was placed in the dishwasher. To be...disinfected of...bodily...fluids. She squints her eyes tight together and shakes it off with a sigh. "Aren't you ever ashamed, Naomi?" she asks instead, pissed that it comes out quieter than she intended it to.

Naomi shuffles against the wall. "Ashamed?"

"Of..." she motions to the strap-on with an awkward head-nod, "Being so _open."_

Naomi seems to consider the question with her mouth and eyes, and Katie waits impatiently. "No," Naomi decides finally, firmly, stroking the phallus absently. She watches Katie with a childish smile, winking once before moving off the doorframe and going upstairs with a notable bounce in her step.

Maybe it should instil faith. But Katie just feels her blood boil yet again. Hypocritical bitch.

* * *

><p>Cook'd really gone to town with his idea of building a hammock and swing-set. Every time she looks out the window, he's there, shirtless as always; smoking, building, assembling, placing, gluing. She goes out to him one afternoon with arms folded as he's busy hoisting up a triangular piece of lumber she's pretty sure he's nicked from somewhere downtown. It's just awkward, speaking to Cook in a casual manner. He's a party loser and there's just no fucking way to take him seriously because <em>he <em>doesn't take anything seriously.

"Working hard?" she asks awkwardly, stepping over a log with her hands by her sides like a surfer.

He watches her with a smile. "Careful there, babe."

"Not your babe."

"Come to help?"

Scoff. "No."

He laughs and shakes his head, turning himself back to work and pounding two nails at once. Katie tries not to notice the way his biceps bulge, or the slight seizing of his abs when he inhales. "One of these days," he mumbles to himself with a grin, squinting in the light. He picks up some other nails, placing one in his mouth. Katie grimaces. "One off thes' days yull wurm up to meeh Katiekins."

"Not bloody likely." She walks back into the house, shutting the slide door and considering locking it.

"Real mature," Freddie sneers.

* * *

><p>Freddie was such a good guy.<p>

* * *

><p>She's supposed to keep Effy grounded. 'Grounded', the nurses said. It's not that Katie's a part of the recuperation team, but she's just always there visiting they've decided to put some of it on her shoulders, and one of them took her aside one Thursday afternoon and said she was supposed to keep Effy grounded. Keep her in this world, remind her of friends and family. But no, she probably isn't supposed to bring up Freddie. But that isn't honest, is it.<p>

"How's Naomi?" Effy asks absently as she takes yet another white pawn and Katie frowns. "Still desperately in love, then?"

Katie scoffs and hesitates on moving out her queen. "She better be."

Effy watches Katie move her queen out. "She's not who you think she is." She takes Katie's queen with her rook. "All the world's a stage. And all the men and women are merely players."

"Please. No more fucking Shakespeare. It's summer."

Freddie laughs and smokes a fag in agreement.

Later at night, Effy actually manages to get some sleep. Katie thinks about actors. And roles. She thinks about Effy. And Naomi.

* * *

><p>They receive postcards from Thomas and Panda, some pictures of them together, some of the sights. Most have long-winded rants on the other side from Panda about something or another, and the majority being about how much they surprisingly miss Bristol. They're all sent to Naomi's house of course, because the farm's been known to screen letters that eventually mysteriously disappear.<p>

They receive a Colonial Theater (It's T-H-E-A-T-R-E, fucking Americans) postcard one breakfast that Cook barely glances at and sends over to Katie. He watches as she reads Thomas's words and considerations of returning home maybe in early August. "How's Eff?" he asks, trying to sound non-chalant.

Something rumbles in her stomach and she tries to readjust her sitting position. It doesn't go away. "Fine."

He licks his lips nervously, looking around the kitchen and squinting at dirty spots on the walls. Scratches his nose. Makes bubble sounds with his mouth.

"Fuck's sake, just _ask_."

"Does she ask about me?"

"Sometimes."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He grins, a tiny one, not like his others. Just..._tinier. _Maybe an Effy grin. She turns away from it, focusing on the postcard.

"So, babe-"

"Not your babe."

"Is it true you crave the Congo cock too?"

"Shut up."

He smiles with an open mouth and watches in amusement as she sets the postcard aside for Naomi to take to Effy later today. "Why do the ladies love that bastard?"

"Effy doesn't."

"She loves me," Freddie says solemnly.

And it's much too far, and much too callous, and Katie realizes it once it's out of her mouth. She watches in horror as the smile slips completely off Cook's face and he immediately brings his head down to his fingers. "I mean-"

"Yeah."

She licks her lips. Fuck. "I like nice boys now," she says weakly.

He scoffs a bit, but it's a sad one. He turns his head slowly to her. "I'm a nice boy," he says.

* * *

><p>She watches as Naomi helps Emily with a box she's too short to reach. The blonde takes it with one hand and places it neatly on a top shelf and Emily rises on her tippy toes to kiss first her nose then her lips with a silly smile.<p>

Katie can feel her heartbeat in her ears.

Naomi spends a lot of time with Effy. A lot.

It's not even like a fucking crime, and honestly it's sort of a load off Katie's shoulders, when she doesn't need to constantly be at Effy's side; Naomi can fill in. Naomi _does _fill in. They don't work out a schedule, it's not like Katie visits on Monday-Wednesday-Friday and Naomi takes Tuesdays-Thursdays. They show up when they show up. Sometimes together. Sometimes apart.

It's a Tuesday morning when Nurse Kelly asks if Effy and Naomi are _together _together, because that particular sexual discovery is something they should probably write down and Katie feels the world erupt and reform all at once. She pulls Naomi into the hallway when they get home.

"I hate you."

"I know."

She pauses to take a breath. Maybe she's just not ready to hear the answer. But Naomi stares at her with these fucking innocent eyes flickering with concern and maybe a hint of paranoia. "You listen to me," she says thickly, dragging Naomi further into the dark corner in front of her room. "If you _ever _hurt Emily again..." She can't continue it. A baseball bat flies into her mind, and she's too busy pushing that thought away.

Naomi's eyes grow grey. She swallows slowly. "I'm through with running."

She has to ask. "What's going on with you and Effy?"

Naomi breaks. "_What? _Nothing!"

She tightens her jaw.

Naomi's eyes and mouth widen. "_Katie. _Nothing is happening with _Effy _and me, we're just _friends."_

Beat.

"And she's _straight. _And she wants _Cook." _The air rushes out of Katie's head, only for a moment, before flooding back in, coolly, and freezing her in place for a moment. She's forgotten what she wanted to say. The time passes slowly and Naomi's breathing picks up. There's a frantic look in her eyes as she lunges forward with an indescribable speed and she grabs Katie's shoulders to keep her in place. Lock her here. "_Katie,"_ she says desperately, "We're just _friends."_

Katie moves to shrug her hands off but Naomi only tightens her grip. "You're being rather defensive, don't you think?"

"Katie!" Naomi shakes her wildly, "I don't care what _you _fucking think, I care about _Emily." _Her eyes narrow, and the hysteria is gone. The game is on. "Don't. Tell. Emily."

Katie manages to grab her hands and push them off her. "Don't tell her you're a selfish fucking slut?" she sneers with her teeth, moving forward to push Naomi back.

"Don't tell her _lies," _Naomi rebuffs, standing tall this time, "She doesn't need more-"

"More reason to mistrust you, I wonder what's made her so untrusting."

It's a threat, a viable naked threat and Naomi clenches her jaw and flares her nostrils. Somewhere out of the corner of her eye Katie swears she can see her hands turning to fists. "I swear to _god_, Katie..."

They hear Emily in the hall before see her. She's returned home a bit earlier than expected, holding groceries in her hands, that fall unceremoniously to the floor and some oranges roll their way. They back away from one another, Katie staring defensively, Naomi against the wall in defeat. It takes only a moment for Katie to realize Emily's not looking at her.

"You promised..." she says softly, tears already forming and she runs upstairs.

Naomi's after her so fast she pins her against the wall on the stairs and the redhead beats at her fruitlessly before collapsing in her arms.

"You promised," she babbles, "You promised you'd try."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Naomi responds, kissing her hands, so carefully, and Emily seems to melt. They kiss again, slower, more carefully, on the lips.

* * *

><p>"I promised her I'd try to be civil with you."<p>

"I gathered."

"You don't make it easy, you know."

"You started it."

"Katie."

"What."

"..Please?"

"Goodnight."

* * *

><p>Most nights he sits here alone on the couch, watching the same show over and over, possibly one of his and Freddie's favourites.<p>

She sits with him one night and boldly traces a scar on his forearm. "What did you do to him, Cook?"

He looks up from telly and turns it off immediately. He just watches her with the most open eyes, tight jaw. Slowly he takes a breath, as though reliving the fight, and she sees hesitation only in his eyes. He smacks his lips together. "Like you wouldn't have done it for Ems?"

Well _fuck._

He brings an arm over the couch. "What would you have done?" he asks softly, in a voice so soft she can barely understand how it could come from James Cook of all people.

She hesitates.

He nods his head, acknowledging her answer. When did Cook become so..

"We're sort of the same, you know?" he says, searching for her eyes.

She gets up to leave. "Goodnight." She rubs his arm as she goes, because it makes James feel better, and maybe _this _James will like it, too.

He closes his eyes in the calmest way, like a man about to pray, and suddenly his eyebrows knit together tightly and he's biting back tears. She's down on her knees almost immediately and holds him, then, wrapping both her arms around his taut, shaking shoulders.

He cries like he's squeaking. It's endearing and childish and manly all at once.

* * *

><p>She stops dreaming of Freddie.<p>

It's not like much of him was hers to begin with anyway.

* * *

><p>It's a bit weird, sharing a room with a boy. She spend the past eighteen years of her life beside Emily, beside a twin and a sister who knew and understood everything she barely knew about herself. Now they're grown up, and Katie's just fleeing from Emily's room whenever she can. Because it's fucking terrifying for one thing, but it's also just alien. Foreign.<p>

* * *

><p>They don't feel like sisters anymore.<p>

Emily and Naomi have a fight one morning, and it wakes everyone up. Naomi ends up leaving to see Effy in a huff. "I'm always the fuck-up, aren't I?" she whispers heatedly at Katie, not really wanting an answer to that. "It's always _me_,"she mocks dramatically, slamming the door shut.

Katie ventures slowly into the kitchen and Emily's doing that fucking passive aggressive thing with banging cups and pans, denying that her relationship's on the rocks.

"Why can't you just be fucking honest for one second, Ems?" Katie grunts angrily, rubbing some sleep out of her eyes.

"You want me to be honest?" Emily asks, breath as hot as her hair. She waves her arms up and brings them down. "Why do I always have to be honest? Why am I always the honest one? The one who has to put it all on the line and _wait _for Naomi to come around?"

They're just in a fucking carousel these two.

Katie opens her mouth and Emily silences her with a hand. "Fuck it," she says, grabbing her moped keys and some vodka out of the cabinet.

"What are you doing?" Katie asks with wide eyes, reaching for the bottle that the younger twin yanks out of her grasp in time.

"Text me for emergencies," she says, brushing past Katie.

"Ems, just talk to me!"

The door slams shut.

Naomi gets back in the afternoon, seemingly calmed down. The second Katie describes the encounter, a light pops and shatters in her head and Naomi's getting onto her bicycle, peddling to a place clearly theirs and theirs alone.

They return clearly sometime in the night, because by morning they're having a silent breakfast together. And when Emily gets up to wash some dishes, Naomi's up behind her, holding her waist close and kissing her neck softly. Katie finishes her breakfast quickly and heads out to get some tanning done when Emily spins around, links her hands around Naomi's neck and they kiss for real.

* * *

><p>She misses the idea of Freddie's shed.<p>

Rocks before cocks.

That is the ideal sentiment that gets her through the day. Some things are just more important than boyfriends. Well. You know. Like. Everything.

Cocks come and go. You can even buy them online. Or clearly dismantle them and attached them to strap-ons.

"Are you getting any, Katie?" Effy asks one afternoon over lunch, barely blinking when Katie nearly chokes on her salad.

"Don't know what you're saying." She picks the tomato out.

"You should."

"Well, are you?"

Effy smirks. Nudges her head up in the air into the hall. Katie turns just in time to see that nervous sixteen year old scrawny chav who volunteers at the barn. He catches her eye and nervously looks away immediately.

They laugh. Effy drops the subject.

* * *

><p>Cook finally ends up finishing the swingset and hammock. The former being a bit shaky, but still surprisingly sturdy considering he's never been much of a handyman. She finds him outside one late afternoon lying on the hammock, smoking a spliff, and staring at the sky.<p>

"Lazy arsehole," she says cheekily, admiring his work.

He turns to her, closing one eye to get a better view. "Back from Eff's?"

"Yeah." She sits down on a swing and moves in it slowly, gripping the rough ropes.

Cook turns back to the sky. "I'd visit more often, you know."

"Yeah. She knows."

They lie and swing and smoke and sigh.

"What are you going to do once Naomi and Emily leave?" Katie asks cautiously.

"Dunno, love," he says, "Don't suppose I could stay here under your watch."

Katie smirks it off. "Yeah. Have another James in the house stealing knickers and talking about sex all the time."

He laughs. Hard again. It's so good to hear him laugh like that. "Fucking hell," he sighs with a smile. "Don't flatter yourself, babe."

"Not your babe."

Naomi's voice is clear and loud through the window. "Get in here."

Katie's heels dig hard into the ground and Cook's upright in the hammock immediately. He moves fast, reacts fast. She remembers the first time the coppers got to Naomi's, and Cook was out the window in a flash before Katie was even properly awake, like he was aware, constantly vigilant of being thrown out, being unwanted.

They head into the living room where Emily's nervously sitting on the couch, biting her nails, and Naomi's standing against a corner, almost hiding from the telly.

'_..ostensibly beaten to death with both hands and the aid of a nearby baseball bat. Foster was a convicted malpractitioner and not long after his death, was charged with the murder of eighteen-year old Frederick McClair. Authorities say they are still actively searching for James Cook who is wanted for both justifiable homicide and evasion of a previous court sentence. Captain Kieran Parker responded to a line of questioning just last night:_

"_Mr. Cook believes he is above the law solely because of his case's circumstances. Those who are housing him believe him to be free and innocent of punishment due to Mr. Foster's lifestyle and actions. Let me be perfectly clear: James Cook is not. Above the law. We will find him. We will place him in custody. And he will serve his time."_

Emily shuts it off, and a silence goes through the room.

"Still," Katie finally breathes out. She turns to Cook, who just stares at the black screen like a comet coming into orbit.

"Could you guys step out for a second?" Naomi asks quietly, moving to sit next to Emily.

"You can't kick him out." Katie doesn't budge.

Naomi sighs and places a hand on Emily's. "For one second, Katie."

"He's your fucking _friend_. You can't do that." Fucking Naomi.

"Katie, please," Emily says just as quietly as Naomi, because now they're just this fucking _couple, _and you can't even fight with one of them at once anymore.

Katie turns to see Cook's already out of the living room and closing the door, heading back to his hammock. She huffs a soft sigh. Naomi pleads with her eyes.

She finally gets out back and sits beside Cook on the swingset. He passes her his spliff.

"We're one and the same, Katie-kins," he says with a grin, "Loyal. Down to the bone."

She sneers. "I didn't do it for you."

His grin falters and something in her does, too.

"You know, love," he says slowly, "You ought to play nicer with Naomi."

"Whatever," Katie replies, passing the spliff.

"I'm serious," he says, taking an inhale.

"I know," Katie says, rolling her eyes. She sighs and arches her neck slowly. "I know," she repeats quietly.

"You know, we'll always be angry." He stretches. "Always. But you can't always let it control you, you know? Otherwise...you're not even a person anymore." He squints at the night sky.

She watches him lick his lips and search for the right words. He never finds them. "I love her," Katie says instead.

He turns to her, nodding understandingly. "There's a difference between loving and being in love, yknow?"

"I know," she scoffs too quickly, turning away.

Not really, actually. She's...

* * *

><p><em>Well. <em>If you _must _fucking know; she's never been in love.

* * *

><p>He's packing his clothes that night, even though no one's really said anything. She's just brushed and is heading for bed when she stops in the doorway and watches helplessly as he goes around the room collecting random shirts and deodorant cans. He finally turns to see her and sighs as he zips up the duffel bag.<p>

"Why?" she asks quietly.

He arches his back and sighs again. "Coz I can't leech forever, can I, love?" He tosses the duffel bag beside his cot and settles in for bed. "I can. But. That isn't fair, izzit?"

He visits Effy with her the next night. She sneaks him in through the emergency exit in the back. It's probably not very smart, but he needs to.

* * *

><p>Effy's half-asleep when they get up to her room and Cook sighs so heavily upon seeing her Katie's scared he'll just faint right in front of her. He grips something on his shirt and watches her sleep for a moment. Katie's finally about to nudge him softly when he trots over and sits beside her.<p>

"Cook._" _

"Yeah, princess."

"..._Cook..._"

Katie turns away, deciding instead to stand outside. She forces a smile at the old lady down the hallway who's taking her hourly walk around the three rooms next to hers, slowly clambering along with her walking stick. The minutes tick by and the muffled words from the room just seem to swim round her head. She does, try that is, move along the wall and arches her ear to better hear, but something bites inside her that makes her move back. Maybe this is their time.

When she finally comes in to get Cook out before it gets too suspicious, Effy's fully awake and sitting on her bed, hands in Cook's. He acknowledges Katie's words. "I'm comin back for you, Eff," he says, kissing her hands. "No matter what."

And it's sickly sweet, Katie thinks, that Effy of all people, needs a prince to save her. But as she watches Cook's patient hand stroke Effy's thumb, a heavy weight settles in her stomach.

* * *

><p>It's already nearing the beginning of August anyway and Naomi and Emily finally decide to let Katie decide what to do with Cook.<p>

"It's your place, too," Naomi ends lamely.

Katie stares open-mouthed at them, and Emily shrugs. "It's true."

"Well thanks for that, Ems, real supportive and helpful."

"Don't be like that, Katie." Naomi folds her arms.

"I was talking to my sister."

"Ladies," Cook interjects. "It's fine. I can-"

"You're not leaving," Katie says firmly. No fucking way is he going onto the streets, or wherever the fuck he thought he'd run off to.

* * *

><p>Later, Cook and Katie are heading out for a midnight stroll. They're putting light jackets just in case when Cook takes a chance glance into the kitchen. He motions Katie to look in with a finger.<p>

Naomi's resting her back along the counter, her hands on Emily's hips, nose buried in her hair. They sway very slowly to a song playing on the radio.

"Sweet, aren't they," Cook whispers.

Katie scoffs.

"It's the hair, you know," Cook decides, and Katie gives him a look. He grins at her, and points at them. Platinum and rosewood. Locks and locks of flammable cherry falling against a sea of soft gold. "See there?" he says, and Katie can.

They continue looking for a bit longer, and she can suddenly feel how close he is, how if she took a tiny step closer, their hands would actually be interlocked. "Don't you ever wish things were different, Cook?" she asks softly.

He smiles, the kind you can hear, and she wonders what it'd be like to rest against it. He turns to her again. "Ever feel like an intruder, love? Like the rest of the world is paired up, and here you are, invading their space, standing where you don't belong?"

Her breath catches. "All the time."

He smirks a playful one. "All the time," he repeats. There is complete and utter sadness in his eyes.

* * *

><p>"You're spending a lot of time with Cook," Naomi says conversationally one morning over coffee when everyone else is still sleeping.<p>

"Someone's got to if you two are too busy sucking face."

"It was just an observation."

"Observe this."

"That wasn't very ladylike."

"Fuck off."

* * *

><p>The reports continue.<p>

"_...seventeen year old Shanky three months prior to killing Dr. Foster." _

"_...say Cook must have beaten Foster for over twenty minutes..."_

"_...pride themselves on saying the case is not yet closed and won't be soon..."_

"_...reason to believe Cook is being kept safe by friends or family."_

She still can't bring herself to believe he's a criminal. A murderer. _Dangerous._

They've got it wrong.

* * *

><p>Ems and Naomi pack for London in less than two days. They consider throwing a going-away party. But Naomi doesn't have anyone to invite. And to be honest, neither does Emily.<p>

Everything's just ending before it's even began, and their room is being cleared out, their favourite mugs disappearing into boxes that stack on top of one another in the living room. Katie and Naomi argue over moving companies. And vans. And London train fares. And everything debateable, really.

"Katie. You've got to let it go. Please. We're going to be living in fucking _London _together."

"I hate you."

"Please let it go. She did."

"That's because she's fucking stupid."

"I love her, Katie. I'm not going anywhere."

"Fuck off. And die."

She sees a flicker of surprise and hurt in Naomi's eyes, like a crack and a dam breaking apart.

* * *

><p>When they leave, it's just about as hurtful as she thought it'd be. They do that stupid thing where you hold the best for last and Naomi says a curt goodbye to Katie with a stiff but genuine hug as Emily holds and kisses Cook on the cheek, whispering something in his ear.<p>

They switch awkwardly slowly, all four dreading this particular pair of goodbyes.

Naomi breaks first and grabs onto Cook like a lifeline and almost breaks down into tears in his shoulder. "It's alright, love," he says with a sad grin, rubbing her back.

Emily grabs her first, too. And it only takes a moment to realize she's gripping her back just as hard. "I'll miss you," Emily crying already.

"Fucking hell," Katie gasps as her eyes start to sting and the tears start flowing. She holds onto Emily like the centre of the universe, and everything spins around them. The lies, the murder, the love, the late nights and early mornings. She holds on for dear life.

"Emsy wum," Emily squeaks in her hair, and Katie laughs into a sigh.

"Katie wum too," she breaks.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks go by in a blur. She moves into Naomi's empty room and decorates it with her things so, so slowly, a torturous invasion of privacy and space. The sudden silences in the mornings and evenings take her for a spin. Sometimes she smokes with Cook outside, sometimes they eat in silence. Most of the time he works out and she reads, or they visit Effy after dinner.<p>

"Everyone's sort of...moved on," Effy says when she's looking out the window one morning.

Katie scoffs and sets up the chess board. "Dunno about that. I think we're all pretty emotionally retarded when it comes to each other." She has no idea where she's getting this thought from.

Effy turns to her with a tired smile. "No one stays in Bristol," she says, picking up the black king and queen. "They follow their heart, and they have to leave."

Katie drops the white knight onto the floor and has to move her chair to pick it back up.

"Naomi." Effy's like...fucking counting on her fingers. "Panda. Sid. Tony."

"Who's Sid?"

"Fre-nobody stays." She places the king and queen back in place and drops her hands back down onto her lap with a sigh. "Everybody has to follow their heart."

Katie sets the chess board aside and places a hand on Effy's. "Eff, who's Sid?"

Effy smiles lightly. "Sid and Cassie."

Katie rubs her hand. "I don't know who those people are, Eff."

"Sid and Cassie. And Panda and Thomas. And Tony and Michelle. And Naomi and Emily."

"Eff, you're scaring me."

"Nobody stays in Bristol."

"I'm here."

Effy's loopy smiles grows serious. Without warning she launches herself into Katie's arms into a fierce hug. They hold one another for a moment, and Katie caresses her long brown hair. "Not going anywhere, Eff." How fucking far they have come.

* * *

><p>"Cook's leaving soon too," Effy says quietly that night as Katie's tucking her in.<p>

* * *

><p>It comes out angrier than she'd intended it to.<p>

"When the fuck were you going to tell me this?"

"I thought it'd be easier on you, to just pick up and go."

"Why the fuck would that be easier on me, Cook?" She watches as he goes around the house collecting random objects together and stuffing them into a bag. He hasn't shaven again, and barely looks like the boy she knew. She stifles a gasp. It's getting real. He's really fucking leaving. And he's worked at changing his face. "Where will you go?" she asks.

"Dunno," he sniffs, arching his back in place, looking around the room. "And I can't tell you, love, in case the coppers come by, you don't need to have information they want." He finally decides on taking a small compact pillow, managing to stuff that into his bag. He's walking by her to go upstairs and raid the bathroom if he can when he pecks her on the forehead. "You've done enough for me, yeah?"

It feels like they're stuck in a cyclone, circling around the topic, on the edge of falling in, and never quite losing balance. The mornings have gotten quieter, and Katie's finding it harder to not stare at his duffel bag by the front door, ready to be picked up and his presence in the house erased completely.

"Will you stay in England?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "Can't answer that, love."

She knows he can't answer any of the questions. But it just seems like nothing of his, not even an answer to a question, belongs to her anymore.

* * *

><p>She knows because Effy knows. On one particular dreary night, the visit to Effy's is cut short when he walks out quickly, rubbing his eyes.<p>

"What is it?" she asks, placing a hand on his shoulder which he shakes of.

"Nothing," he says gruffly, hiccupping even. He shields his face from her and walks down the hallway to the stairs. "Let's go."

She glances into Effy's room quickly and feels her heart beat out of her chest at the sight of the girl clutching the covers up to her mouth.

"You're leaving," she says quietly when they get home and Cook's moving to the kitchen quickly for something to drink.

"In the morning," he says, grabbing a box of milk and drinking it from the spout.

"Cook." She rips it away from him in disgust.

He chuckles sadly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Please don't go," she says softly, hating the tenderness, the open-ness, the vulnerability in it.

He halts his actions in the moonlight and stares at her dumbly. "I've got to, love," he says resolutely.

They hug goodbye outside the bathroom, slowly and quietly. He's humming some tune in her ear and rotating them slowly in place. She can hear his heartbeat, slow yet fast, ready to break out of his hard chest, ready to fight. Ready to protect. "See you around, babe," he says.

"Not your babe," she musters out, and she hates that it's the last thing she says to him before going into her room. But he laughs at it and the noise fills her inside.

Every creak and bump and tiny shifts of movement in the night breaks her eyes open and she wills herself firstly not to cry, then to try to get to sleep. In that order.

When he finally does leave, it is undeniably. She hears him shifting in the guest room, then the window being slowly wheeled open.

_Cook._

She hears his soft grunting as he tracks out of the window, hands gripping the ledge and dragging his bags out with him.

_COOK COOK COOK_

He lands softly on the ground outside and runs off, the tiny rocks and sand on the floor rubbing loudly against his shoes. It is quiet.

She wills herself firstly not to cry, then to try to get to sleep. In that order.

* * *

><p>If there's one thing she...<em>loves <em>about Cook, it's the way he _says _love.

_luv_

in that husky, low, semi-serious way. It wraps around the tongue like a warm glove.

_end._


End file.
